


Under Pressure

by three_piece_suit



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Contracts, F/M, Gunplay, Masturbation, Office Sex, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/three_piece_suit/pseuds/three_piece_suit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WARNING!!!!! I did not rate this story as rape/non-con because IT IS CONSENSUAL but part of the game is for it to appear non-consensual so I warn that it could be triggering or upsetting! Read at your own risk!</p>
<p>Olivia and Rafael have decided that standard romantic relationships are not working for them and neither is standard sex. They've upped the stakes with a sexual game that gives them an outlet for the crimes they deal with everyday. They both know it's consensual. In fact, Rafael drew up a contract. But in the moment, the rush is making it appear otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Pressure

He hadn’t been to his office today. He hadn’t had time and wanted a moment to himself. Unlocking the door, he could feel his body wanting to release itself from his impeccable suit. His door opened slightly, and he flicked the light switch which lit a lamp in the corner, another on an end table, and one on his oak desk. He froze dead in his tracks, hand still on the switch, staring at his desk chair. Olivia was seated there, leaning back with her black heels perched on his desk. She was wearing a black dress and black heels. Had she been somewhere earlier? A smirk slid across her face as her eyes adjusted slightly to the sudden light.  
  
“Rafael.” His name came as a statement, as though it was an adjective, describing how the next moments would play out.  
  
“Why…?”  
  
“You know why.” His eyes moved down to his desk which was neat and untouched except for her Glock 9MM which rested against the wood with a magazine and six bullets next to it. He slowly shut his door and locked it from the inside, standing again to face Liv, her body unmoved, waiting for direction.  
  
The gun was off-putting. “What do you want with me?” he asked softly.  
  
Her smile fell. “Sit,” she indicated one of the leather armchairs in front of his desk. She lowered her heels from the desk, careful to avoid noise and let them pad down onto the carpet. Gently she stood and he moved towards the chair but didn’t want to sit with the gun present. She faced him, her right hand grazing his desk until she gathered the six bullets and magazine in her hands.  
  
“Take off your jacket.” He eyed her and her movements but not seeing the harm in her request slid his jacket from his shoulders and draped it across the armchair next to him.  
  
She began loading the magazine slowly. “I said to sit,” she enunciated the last word, making sure he understood it as a command and not a suggestion. Her piercing eyes persuaded him and he lowered himself into the armchair. Her black dress flattered her as her red manicured fingers finished loading the magazine. She picked up the gun.  
  
His breathing became heavy, his heard pounded. He had no idea what to expect from her. This was part of it, of course, the suspense. But it was still frightening when the lack of control hit him. He looked up at her through questioning, anxious eyes.  
  
“Undo your pants.”  
  
“Liv I…”  
  
In a single motion she inserted the magazine into the gun and slammed it into place.  
  
“Rafael, undo your pants.” Her soft voice contrasted the sudden crash of the object.  
  
And then he could feel it. He spread his legs. Their eyes never left one another’s but they could feel everything happening between each other. His erection threatened the zipper of his Armani dress pants. He could hear his heart thumping in his ears, watching as her legs and heels appeared from around the desk, her red nails contrasting against the gun’s black finish. His fingers fumbled with his belt, separating it, and then pried open his pants until only his boxers held back his erection.  
  
She could see his breath becoming more erratic and heavy. The contrast of fear and excitement rushed between them. She stood in front of him, looking down at the bulge between his legs, begging for her attention. She would refrain, however. Instead she perched on top of his desk, spreading her own legs enough for him to see her glistening wet in front of him. She watched as he let out a long, steady breath, his hardness reaching for her, his eyes closing as if to control his exploding desire and desperation.  
  
“Look at me,” she requested.  
  
“Please, Liv.” God she loved it when he begged. Power reduced to begging. The physical sight of it made her wetter and wanting him more. But that wouldn’t be enough torture and would be too easy. This wasn’t about easy.  
  
Her dark red lips parted. “Come.” The word passed between them and she knew he would not understand. She would make him. His forehead pulled together into a scary question.  
  
“Please,” he tried again.  
  
She raised the gun in front of her, pointing it at Rafael’s head. His eyes grew wide and he pushed himself back in his chair.  
  
“What the fuck Olivia?” His erection didn’t fade. She let him process for a couple seconds.  
  
“Come for me.”  
  
“I can’t-“  
  
In a moment’s time, Liv forced the gun back and forth, loading a live round into the chamber and then turning it back on his head. Her face became angry.  
  
“I said, come.”  
  
“Fuck,” quickly Rafael understood the game. He reached into his boxers, pulled his dripping hardness from within and began stroking, all the while, looking over the barrel of the gun at Liv’s sickeningly grinning face. She writhed on the desk, hiking her dress up until her wetness touched the oak, her legs still spread so he could see.  
  
“You bitch,” he whispered with the only air he had in his lungs as his hand furiously worked on himself, a sensation of impending orgasm growing. She must have not liked his comment. Her face twisted again and she put her thumb up and cocked the gun, keeping it aimed at his head.  
  
“Fuck!” He sunk lower into the armchair, giving his arm more room to pull himself closer to release. He put his head back, closing his eyes as he moaned. Suddenly he was aware of movement.  
  
Liv raised herself from his desk, leaving behind a couple drops of her desire on the surface as she came forward, straddling his widened legs, the gun now pointed at his left temple as she smiled down at him. She used her free left hand to lift her dress up higher so he could see her bare swollen lips dripping for him.  
  
She picked up his left hand as he worked on himself with the right, his moans growing louder and more frustrated. She placed his left hand on her right, so he could feel her index finger perched on the trigger.  
  
“Come for me,” she begged him, ever so gently letting him feel her put more pressure on the trigger of the barrel resting against his temple.  
  
“Fuck, I can come for you.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
He moaned, “Yes,” and she could feel his muscles tightening and contracting, preparing for release. “Yes,” he said again as his face twisted into one that resembled pain.  
  
As she pressed the barrel into his temple, he threw his head back as he swore loudly, his body writhed under her, his desire exploding onto her as he struggled to breathe. Waves of flaming pleasure filled him, passionate ecstasy escaped him. He mouthed her name in between swears as his body came down from its climax. She smiled at him, pleased with his work.  
  
“You’re lucky,” she said with a smile. He felt her let go of the trigger and her thumb placed the hammer back to resting. There was a thud as the magazine dropped from its position onto the floor and she lowered the gun to the carpet.  
  
“What the fuck, Liv,” he breathed, more of a sentence than a question. He lifted his head from resting on the back of the armchair as his rapid breaths rose and fell.  
  
“I’m pleased.” He watched as her act ended and her face returned to its gentleness as it usually is for him instead of the twisted, hungry one he had witnessed.  
  
Instead his face picked up her devilish look. “Are you?” he reached in front of him and thrust two fingers into her. She gasped, falling forward into him, catching herself on the armrests, her body contracting in unexpected pleasure.  
  
“Rafael,” she moaned into his ear. Before she pulled away from him he placed his thumb on her clitoris, pressed and circled it while moving his fingers inside her, adding a third. Finding herself she quickly picked herself up from her seated position on top of him and stood briefly until falling back to leaning on his desk. He was almost laughing with a spread of satisfaction on his face. She enjoyed this in him. He let his elbow rest on the chair with his hand dangling as it dripped with her wetness. As hers had, his face contorted into a sick grimace and he lifted his hand.  
  
She suddenly understood and protested, “Rafael, no, don’t!” Reaching for his hand to stop him she lunged but it was too late. His fingers slid into his mouth and he didn’t break from her eyes as he sucked them clean, her desire filling him.  
  
She couldn’t help but smile and laugh as he did. “You’re crazy, you know that?”  
  
He pulled his fingers from his mouth and licked his lips, purposely swallowing hard. “You just held a loaded gun to my head while I jerked off. Who’s crazy here?”  
  
A laugh escaped her and she leaned forward, catching his sour lips in hers. “I guess we are.”


End file.
